


The Office

by castielrisingabove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, Dean Smith - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Endverse Cas, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Office AU, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielrisingabove/pseuds/castielrisingabove
Summary: 5 Times Dean Smith called Castiel Novak into his office and 1 time he didn't





	

**1\. Hiring**

  

Dean Smith was nothing if not professional. His suits, top of the line, were always neatly pressed. His meals, healthy, were stacked neatly in a mini-fridge in his office. He regularly worked late, tirelessly skipped breaks and did whatever was necessary to keep the company's numbers looking good. This machinelike devotion had earned him a management position in a matter of years and he fully intended to climb the corporate ladder at a similar pace. To match his increased responsibilities and pace, he'd been offered a personal assistant, screened and hired by his boss, Zachariah.

But the file he was looking at showed a man who seemed to be his exact opposite.

Castiel Novak had almost zero experience working in a corporate setting. Up until a few years ago, he'd been a firefighter, until one particularly bad fire cost him his healthy lungs and forced him to retire. He'd been unemployed since then, evidently 'traveling' and 'helping others,' whatever those vague accomplishments were.

The only reason the man had been hired was because he was Zachariah's second cousin. Typical. Probably meant the man was a total ass, if he was anything like Zachariah. Needless to say, Dean was  _not_  looking forwards to meeting him, much less actually utilizing him as a personal assistant. Perhaps if he assigned him enough work, he'd crack under pressure.... 

Dean's scheming was cut short by a knock at his door. "Come in."

The door opened. The man who walked in was tall, his dark hair shaggy, and he sported scruff that was several days past a five o'clock shadow. His eyes caught Dean off guard, a shining bright blue. When he finally managed to drag his eyes away, it was to notice that Novak's shirt was untucked and he was  _barefoot_ , of all things.

Castiel caught him looking at his feet. "Is this gonna be a problem?"

His voice. Deep and more than a little gravely. Dean was so fucked.

"We're supposed to be professional here," Dean replied, slowly licking his lips and flushing when Castiel noticed. "So I expect you to come in every day with your hair combed, your shirt tucked in and, I can't believe I have to say this, wearing shoes."

To his surprise, Castiel merely tilted his head, a smirk crossing his face. "I expected you to be different."

Dean scowled. "How so?"

"You're the youngest in leadership by a good amount, I assumed you got there by being innovative, not being a kiss ass."

"I'm not--"

"--the only ass I'd be interested in you kissing," Castiel interrupted with a smirk, "Is the ass of someone much younger. Preferably naked."

Dean stared in stunned silence. Did Novak  _really_  just proposition him? During a business meeting where he was getting  _hired_? This man was nothing like Zachariah, aside from being a royal pain in the ass.

"I'll take the silence as my cue to leave. You can find me at my desk if you're interested." Castiel winked, again making it unclear if his last line was a proposition, and sauntered out of the room with uncanny amounts of confidence.

Dean's face burned and he scowled at the closed door. He was  _not_  attracted to Novak and he was  _not_  about to be taken down by some...some power play. He'd get Novak under him soon enough and---once again, Dean's mind spiraled quickly to a very dirty,  _very unprofessional,_  place. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. This was going to be harder than he thought.

 

**2\. Scheduling**

 

"I don't understand why you need me here in person," Castiel said lowly. He looked...somewhat more presentable than he had three weeks ago, but it had been a battle on Dean's part for every step.

First came the shoes. Castiel wore sandals. Wore sneakers. He'd even worn high heels just to mess with Dean before he finally was forced into one Dean's spare pairs of Oxfords.

Then came his beard, which Dean finally had to shave by hand. Then the shirt, which also happened to be Dean's, the hair, slicked back with Dean's hair product, and a tie, which happened to be one of Dean's. Blue. Matched the guy's eyes.

It seemed logical while he was doing it but now, seeing Castiel put together in his clothes, Dean realized how odd it must look to...well, to anyone. He barely knew the guy, after all, and yet he wore all of Dean's clothes like they'd just spent the night and-- _shit, not again, not again._

"I..." Dean stalled, trying to pick up his original train of thought, the original reason for calling Castiel in, "I, uh, I need you to, uh, verbally acknowledge all of the schedule changes because..." he stalled, looking into Castiel's eyes, "...because I want your input."

"Sir," Castiel smirked, "If you wanted to get a good look at my toned physique, you could have just asked."

"I didn't--"

"Of course not," Castiel winked, "It'll be our little secret."

There was a beat. Dean found himself wondering, just for a moment, what it would be like if they  _did_  admire each other in the privacy of the office. If they  _did_  do so under the guise of 'scheduling.'

_NO_. He'd worked hard to earn his position, Dean was not about to throw it away for some half baked pretty boy who he suspected was often a little high on pain killers. Besides, this could very well be a power play. Sleep with Dean just to undermine him, just to tell the whole office how  _easy_  Dean Smith could be.

Dean hardened his jaw, steeling himself. "As I was saying," he began, a little too loud, "On Monday I've got a client scheduled for 11:30 am..."

**3\. Confiding**

In order to avoid the crazy levels of sexual tension, Dean had recently started a new campaign. Friendship. If he was  _friends_  with Novak, he couldn't be interested in him. That was the way it worked, right? You didn't sleep with your friends?

Truth be told, Dean had only had one night flings with other men. Whatever he felt about Castiel was entirely new.

Regardless, Dean worked hard over the year to build rapport with Castiel. They occasionally swapped stories (Castiel's were always more interesting), went out to lunch (turns out Castiel knew all the healthy places), and even swapped DVDs (here was where Castiel was lacking, though his nature documentaries were always more interesting than Dean expected).

And while this definitely made Dean appreciate Castiel more as a person, it did nothing to fix the burning desire that pooled in his gut any time Castiel was near. It hardly touched his fantasies, Dean had likely imagined them kissing in every point of the office suite, and did nothing to fix his racing heart.

Today, however, that didn't matter. Not after the bad news.

"Castiel?" Dean called, trying to keep the wobble out of his voice. "Can you come in here?" 

His father had just passed away. He'd take time off work, but they were in the middle of a huge project. Leaving now would show weakness. Irresponsibility. Dean couldn't afford to lose face now, not when he'd been doing so well. Still, he needed  _someone_. And the only person in the office he trusted, strangely, was Novak.

Castiel must have been able to tell something was wrong, because his face was full of worry. "Dean, are you--"

"--my dad died," Dean whispered, cursing silently as his lower lip trembled.

"Dean..." Castiel cleared the room in seconds, leaning across the desk to wrap his arms around Dean. He didn't smell of drugs, as Dean had imagined. Instead he smelled...nice.

The position was awkward, however, so Castiel let him go and waited awkwardly for Dean to stand and leave his desk. Something Dean found himself doing, despite the fears it was unprofessional. A single, traitorous tear leaked from the corner of his eye as Castiel hugged him properly, securing him to his warm, firm chest.

They stayed like that for a while, Dean feeling warm and safe and protected. When he finally pulled away, he didn't let go of Castiel, instead merely looking up at him, searching for the right words to say. I'm sorry, perhaps, or maybe a simple thank you. His response, however, was caught off guard when he saw Castiel glancing down at his lips. 

Dean had never been this close to Castiel before, and he could see Castiel's own lips were slightly chapped and very pink. Castiel moved in closer, just ever so slightly closer and for a moment, Dean almost closed the gap, his lips hovering just above Castiel's when---

_NO._  Dean jerked out of Castiel's arms, actually pushing Castiel away. This was not happening. He was  _not_  going to lose his job the same day he lost his father. "Get away from me!" he snarled.

Castiel looked bewildered. "Dean, I am sorry if--"

"You're sorry?" Dean laughed, a manic, grief fueled laugh. "This is  _your_  fault.  _You've_  been the one pushing this in the first place, since the moment we met. It's crude. It's unprofessional and if it happens again, I  _will_  fire your ass."

Silence fell. Castiel stood frozen, his back straightened, his mouth just slightly agape. Then, softly, he croaked. "Just tell me this. Was it unreciprocated?"

In that moment, Dean wanted nothing more than to take it all back. To beg Cas to hold him, kiss him, anything to comfort him. He'd lost his father, he couldn't bear to lose one of his only friends too. And Cas...Cas could make it all better, could ease the tumultous pain Dean was trying to hide...but he could also cost him his job. Besides, he couldn't go back on his word now.

Steeling himself, Dean glared. "Of course it was unreciprocated," he snarled, hating himself even more as a flash of pain crossed Castiel's eyes. The man closed his mouth with a sharp click, merely nodding as he left the room.

The next day, all of the belongings Dean had lent Castiel were set neatly on his desk.

**4\. Dick Pic**

Months passed since the incident and Castiel had been nothing if not professional. Cold, and professional. Gone were the chats, the lunch visits, the grins and winks, Castiel was in for business and out as soon as it was over. 

Dean missed him terribly.

He'd been tempted to try to rekindle a friendship many times, but whenever he tried, something stopped him. It was seeing Castiel with another woman from the office, Meg, who was curvy in all the right places. It was being complimented by Zachariah and seeing Castiel's frown tighten ever so slightly from nearby. It was Castiel, planning his days to leave  _just_  before Dean to avoid seeing him.

It was miserable.

Then, one day, Dean's phone buzzed. A message from Castiel. His heartbeat quickened. Castiel had stopped texting him after the incident, but perhaps now, today, he was extending an olive branch. A smile quirked at Dean's lips as he opened the message to find.

No. No way. 

Dean gaped at the dick pic in glaring high definition on his phone. Was this...Castiel's? Any logical thought he'd had was utterly derailed by the single defining thought.  _Castiel wants me._

Why else would he send a dick pic? After all the warnings, after everything, Castiel was putting it all on the table. And Dean was more than ready to risk his job if it meant smoothing things over with Castiel. Besides, they could always say it was scheduling....

"Could Castiel please come in my office?" Dean called, his heart hammering. He loosened his tie, unbuttoning the top button. He was desperately checking his hair in the reflection on his desk when the door opened.

"You called?" Castiel's voice was as deep as ever and Dean licked his lips.

"Do you know why I called you in here?" Dean asked, trying to keep the smirk from crossing his face.

To his surprise, Castiel sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic?"

_Accidentally_.

Dean pursed his lips, his stomach crashing to his toes. It wasn't on purpose. It wasn't some sexy olive branch. It was an accident. Probably meant for Meg, or someone similar. "...accidentally?" was all Dean could manage to squeak.

"I understand if you wish to fire me, but it won't ever happen again. I never intended--"

"Of course," Dean interrupted lowly, carefully tightening his tie and ever so subtly trying to rebutton his shirt. He hoped his blush wasn't too obvious. "Why would you."

"Sir, I--" Castiel caught himself. Silence hung for a moment before Castiel shook his head. "I would never want to jeopardize our working relationship."

Right. Of course. Duh. Dean merely hung his head, staring pointedly at his desk until he heard the door to his office close. Dean thumped his head against the wood. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

 

**5\. Transfer**

 

Dean gave it a week before he couldn't handle it anymore. It was clear Novak had moved on. He'd caught Meg hanging out by Castiel's desk every day that week. The dick pic had been an accident, but it had also served to show Dean just how  _bad_  he had it for his own personal assistant.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Novak," Dean said, trying to look at anything that wasn't the man standing at his desk. He might lose his nerve if he made eye contact with those strikingly blue eyes. "You're being transferred come tomorrow. Michael wants you as his personal assistant."

Dean expected Castiel to complain. To put up a fight. But his only response is: "Is this what you want?" 

"I..." there was one final hesitation on Dean's part, but he remembered Meg laughing at something Castiel said, remembered the nickname (Clarence) that she's given him and he sighed. "Yes."

"As you wish."

A part of Dean hoped beyond hope that Castiel was referencing  _The Princess Bride_ , that he really meant "I love you" and would stay despite Dean's demands that he go. But the door closed. And his desk was cleaned out by the end of the day.

Castiel was really leaving.

 

**1\. The One Time He Didn't**

 

The next morning Dean couldn't bear to see Castiel's desk empty. He stared at it for a moment, vaguely considering the fact it would soon be filled with some new stranger chose to be his personal assistant. Dean frowned. He didn't  _want_  someone new in Castiel's desk. It seemed wrong. Out of place.

But this was all his doing, so he'd have to buck up and pretend everything was fine. Everything  _would_  be fine. His next personal assistant would likely be someone far more professional and Michael would have to deal with Castiel's quirks. And cute smiles. And winks.

Dean pushed down the surge of jealousy he felt towards Michael. It wasn't Michael's fault.

His office door was already ajar. Great. Now, on top of everything else, he'd have to deal with getting onto the cleaning staff for not doing their jobs right. Hopefully nothing had been stolen, he'd left the belongings Castiel had returned in there last night because he couldn't bear to bring them home and--

Whatever train of thought he'd been pursuing stalled as opened his office door to find Castiel sitting on his desk.

His hair had returned to its natural state of messiness, he was sporting a five o'clock shadow and he was, once again, barefoot. In his hands, he held the blue tie Dean had lent him.

"I didn't call for you," Dean said stupidly.

"I was just going to return this," Castiel replied nervously, fiddling with the tie, "But...since I no longer have anything to lose, I...I...."

For once, his arrogant swagger was gone. Castle sat on the desk, blue eyes wide and pleading, clearly not expecting his nerve to give out so soon. He took a deep breath. Dean's heart pounded as he waited for Castiel's explanation. Finally, slowly, Castiel said, "Was it ever reciprocated?"

There was only a split second of hesitation before Dean crossed the room and pressed his lips against Castiel's. It was something he should have done months ago. Castiel's whimpered " _oh_ ," was worth it, though, as he kissed back with desperation. Months worth of pent up sexual frustration released in a glorious kiss.

Finally, Dean pulled away, panting.

"I suppose that answers my question," Cas breathed, smiling a bright gummy smile Dean had rarely seen before.

Dean chuckled, feeling lighter than he had in months. "Actually," he gasped, "I've got one of my own."

"Oh?"

"Was that really your dick?"

Castiel threw back his head and laughed, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. Tugging him closer, Castiel whispered, complete with trademark smirk and wink, "Guess you'll have to find out."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, I greatly appreciate your kudos and comments! And/or check me out on Tumblr @castielsunshinegrace


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